


Liar, Liar

by DesdemonaSighs



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Dark, Dark!Merlin, Devil!Merlin, M/M, Powerful!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesdemonaSighs/pseuds/DesdemonaSighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, Arthur gets Merlin. It's been five years, and Merlin is The Devil, but the war is over and Arthur still thinks he is beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liar, Liar

**Author's Note:**

> So, like, basically, I really love evil!merlin. I like to think he's sort of like Rumplestiltskin from OUaT, or maybe soulless!Sam. Or even Crowley. Who knows. I just really like it.

It is the end, and Arthur presses the cool blade of his sword against Morgana's neck, staring into his sister's eyes, relief flooding through him at the way her body slumps in defeat. He knows he has her now, knows the war is over, just from the way the magic in the air seems to freeze over, no longer a hot presence against his skin. It's finally the end, and Arthur feels like he can breathe.

"Morgana, do you surrender?" he asks in his most commanding voice. Morgana looks up at him through her lashes, her eyes still daring but hiding a sadness within their green depths.

"Do I really have a choice, Arthur? I would very much like to keep my head. Everyone's dead, anyways, on my side. So yes, I suppose I surrender," she rolls her eyes as if speaking to him is tedious. As if she hasn't just orchestrated the greatest war in Camelot's history. Behind him, the knights let out a cheer, but he doesn't relent, letting the blade dig into the milky skin of her neck.

"I should really just murder you on this spot," he whispers between gritted teeth. It's symbolic, really, that their final battle should take place in the middle of the forest that they use to play in. After numerous nights of pursuit, Morgana's capture feels almost like a child's game, like Morgana is just fooling around. Her smile says that she can read all of Arthur's thoughts as they flit across his face, and he quickly shuts it down, skillfully blanking out any and all emotion. "Call off the last of your sorcerers."

"Yeah, well, I'm just going to let them kill themselves off, anyways. No use for them now," Morgana smirks, her tongue still wicked and sharp. Arthur's sword bites at the flesh of her collar, just enough to draw a drop of blood, and she hisses. "Anything else I can do for you, your majesty, before I go off to die in a hole?"

There is a pause, and even though the shouts of the knights echo through the forest, Arthur hears Morgana's sharp intake of breath as she processes what Arthur is about to ask her.

"Give me Merlin."

"Never," is Morgana's harsh reply, and for the first time since they've captured her, she fights against the ropes binding her wrist, trying to escape. "You will never have Emrys."

"I will have what I ask or I will cut you to pieces!" he shouts, silencing his men. Morgana laughs, tipping her head back and allowing the blade to slide across her neck.

"Then do it, brother."

The sword swings back, aiming for the veins beneath Morgana's pale skin, and he is ready to do it. Ready to kill his sister and give up on the dream of ever finding his manservant.

The sword is ripped from his grasp and, as if on its own accord, impales itself on a nearby tree. Arthur is stunned, about ready to fight off whatever sorcerer caused this change in events, when a pair of feet, clad in dark boots, dangle over a branch of the same tree with the sword in it. The knights turn, peering at the legs as they swing back and forth with childlike whimsy, and Morgana curses under her breath.

"Did someone call for me?" asks the legs - or rather, the owner of the legs whose head is still shrouded within the thick leaves. But Arthur knows that voice, couldn't possibly mistake it for anybody, and his breath freezes in his chest. The world tilts dangerously as Merlin climbs out of the tree, falling to the ground with a thud and steadying himself on the hilt of the sword still nestled in the tree's bark. "Ah! Wow! This is a real treat, then! Hello everybody! Someone should have told me we would be having a family reunion. Would have worn my nice robes," Merlin giggles, brushing off the sleeves of his black cloak.

He circles around the group, his movements agile and elegant, fluid like water, almost like a dance that only he knows the steps to. All Arthur - and the knights of the roundtable, for that matter - can do is stare, perplexed and shocked. It's been five years. Five years of war and hatred and heartbreak, and Merlin is suddenly here, smiling as if nothing has happened and everything is alright now. Like he isn't the most powerful warlock to ever walk the land. Like he wasn't the person who burned down villages and killed hundreds of people. Like he didn't sell his soul for power. Like he isn't a prisoner of war.

"Prince Arthur!" and he's standing right in front of Arthur, just an arm's length away. Arthur feels dizzy, frightened out of his wits, and happier than he's been for such a long time. He takes in the high cheekbones, the scruff along his chin, the blue eyes that once held so much warmth but are now cold as they stare into his, and he holds back a gasp. He holds back the need to reach forward, to run his fingers across the plains and valleys of Merlin's skin, to see if it's the same as when he had memorized it so long ago, what feels like lifetimes ago. "Everyone is here! Gwaine, Leon, Lancelot, Elyan, Percival, don't know who you are, but you're lovely, really you are," he points at Sir Kay with an affectionate smile before turning it back on Arthur. "Arthur! And Morgana! What a party. Pity no one invited me. I'm a great partier, I'll tell you. King of the Underworld and all. Actually, makes me quite angry that no one thought to send me an invite."

Merlin lifts his hand and there is suddenly a circle of fire around the small field. Morgana lets out a yelp as her bindings seem to tighten on her wrists, and in a split second, all the knights have their swords pointed at Merlin. They still blink as if awakening from some sort of stupor, and Leon lets out a whimper when Merlin's eyes are set on him. "No need to be so violent, boys. I was just kidding! Mercy, can't play with a little fire without having your head almost chopped off."

"Emrys..."

"And Morgana, lovely Morgana!" Merlin flits past Arthur, barely brushing his shoulder. The point of contact is hot against his skin, burning through layers of chainmail and armor and fabric like the fire that surrounded them seconds ago could have. "Looking beautiful as always. Especially on your knees. You were always so very stunning on your knees," he gives her a saucy wink, the corner of his mouth turning up in a seductive smirk. He's playing with her, just like he's playing with everyone else. Arthur snaps out of his haze of _Merlin Merlin Merlin_.

"You will stay where you are, Merlin!" Lancelot orders because Arthur still can't find his tongue. Merlin holds his hands up, waves them playfully, before disappearing, coming back into existence just a breath away from Lancelot. 

"Sorry, Lance. Seems I'm terrible at listening to orders," in a blink, he has his arm wrapped around Arthur's shoulder, almost like comradery, almost like friendship. "What was it you use to say, Arthur ol' buddy? 'Merlin! Do you never do what you're told?'" he mimics in Arthur's voice, squeezing his shoulder. 

"You stay away from the king!" Elyan's voice shakes, although his hand is sturdy on the sword still poised at Merlin's throat. This delights Merlin, his bright blue eyes turning on him. 

"Elyan! You're still a knight, then? Right, lovely, love it! Just, I do love a good knight in shining armor, I do," Merlin laughs, pulling his arm away from Arthur and blinking into existence once more behind Elyan. "Tell me, _Elyan_ , do you wish to know how your sister is? She's with me in the Underworld, you know. Didn't make it to the lake before I snatched her." 

The air goes cold as something in Merlin's face changes, the young delight replaced with something dangerously seductive. Elyan pales. "Told her, this is what I said, 'If you steal ten souls from righteous men, I'll make you queen!' And you know what she did?" Merlin wraps an arm around Elyan's neck, putting him in a chokehold and cutting off his air supply. No one moves, too frightened and paralyzed to the spot. "There were ten knights from Cenred's kingdom that stumbled across my threshold. She stole their souls and ate their hearts and eternally damned them. Now I own your sister," he whispers in a voice that is not his. It's too deep, and it rattles Arthur to his bones. 

Elyan gasps for breath, clawing at the arm encircling his neck. Merlin lets go, mirth returning to his eyes as he slaps Elyan's shoulder, "But, hey, your sister is a queen! Congratulations are in order, I think! Well, Queen of Death and Darkness, sure, but at least she gets a throne, right? And I got to tell you, old friend, she is just a sight to see shrouded in the souls of the evil. Just brilliant." 

And then Merlin transports again and he is on his knees beside Morgana, chains wrapping his arms and legs and holding him in place. Arthur knows it's a trick, that Merlin has done this himself and those chains are no stronger than tired cloth, but he takes the opportunity, wretching his sword from the tree and placing the blade against Merlin's neck. He doesn't even flinch, just smiles up at Arthur through his eyelashes, his robes sparkling and changing until they resemble a blue tunic and a red neckerchief. He looks young beneath the cold steel of Arthur's sword, like the manservant he use to have all those years ago. 

"I'll come home to Camelot if you let Morgana go," Merlin jerks his head towards Morgana, who still fights against her bindings, trying to crawl away from Merlin like a disease. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You act as if I don't have a bargaining chip. Trust me, if I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be." 

"Emrys, don't do this," Morgana pleads in a quiet voice, her eyes foggy and desperate. 

" _You will be silent_ ," Merlin yells, angry and powerful. "If I do not ask you to speak, you do not speak, or I will destroy you." 

Morgana silences, only her sobs echoing through the forest. "Sorry about that. You know how wives are," he shakes his head, "Except, none of you do, do you? Lonely maidens, you lot are. Never got married, eh. Even I got married. Actually, I got married twelve times. Morgana's number twelve, if you haven't guessed. Marriage is a little different in the Underworld, though. Bit unsatisfactory when your wife is alive still. But I'm babbling. Has anyone got any water?" 

* * *

They leave Morgana in a cave somewhere far off, still tied up and begging for Merlin to come back to her. 

Merlin is still in chains, humming to himself as he sits atop a horse. They decide to spend the night in an old castle, two days away from Camelot, and they lock Merlin in one of the cells, taking refuge in the dungeon huddled around a fire as a storm rages over them. Arthur sends word to Camelot that the war is over, and he passes out soup to his men. 

"Don't worry, I don't eat," Merlin says when Arthur slides a piece of bread between the bars of the cell. Arthur gives a curt nod and watches as Merlin makes the chains around him disappear. There is a false sense of safety having Merlin behind bars, and Arthur tries to relax, reminding himself that Merlin would have killed them by now if he wanted to at all. It feels almost like old times, all of them together, but nothing like it at all. 

Five years. Five years is a long time. Merlin is different now, anyone can see that, but so is Arthur. Everything is different now. 

"So, who are you?" Merlin calls between the bars and Kay's head shoots up, brown eyes startled. The air is warm somehow, inviting and intoxicating, making the tension dissipate. Merlin is being friendly, trying to make them feel at home, but there is a sharp edge to it, like he's looking for something. Kay looks at Arthur, waiting for consent to speak to the prisoner. Arthur doesn't look up, too interested in his soup. 

"I am Kay, knight of Camelot," is the whispered reply, and Merlin nods, smiling kindly at Kay. 

"Pleasure to meet you Kay," Merlin sticks his hand out, only to have Percival nearly chop it off with his hunting knife. "Ow, Percy! Mercy, it takes four days for me to grow back limbs. Be careful," Merlin is indignant, his eyebrows knitting together as he cradles his arm. "Well, anyway, Kay, before we were so rudely interrupted, I'm Merlin. Or Emrys. Or the King of the Underworld. Or The Devil. But most people call me Merlin. Hi." 

Kay splutters, putting down his soup and coughing. No one offers any advice on how to proceed when you're talking to The Devil, so he mumbles out a faint "hello" before returning to his food. He continues to glance over at a beaming Merlin, his eyes glazing over as the minutes pass. After a short while, Kay is all but mooning over Merlin, sighing softly in his direction. 

"Stop that," Gwaine yells, tackling Kay when he stands to release Merlin from the cell. "Stop what you're doing to him!" 

"Restrain him," Arthur orders when Kay fights Gwaine's hold, still walking towards Merlin. He's in a trance, Arthur knows, but there is still the shock of guilty jealousy at the way Kay looks at Merlin, and he knows it's the way he looks at Merlin himself. Like he painted the world with his hands, like Merlin is everything that Arthur will ever need. 

With Kay in Percival's grasp, Gwaine pulls away from the fight, flinging the door of Merlin's cell open and shoving Merlin to his knees. "You piece of shit," Gwaine shouts, spitting on Merlin with pure hatred. 

"Now, now, Gwaine, don't spit on Prince Arthur's belongings if you don't intend to shine them," Merlin quips, tilting his head up tauntingly. 

"You dirty bastard! You traitor! You are nothing but shit beneath my boot. I hope you burn in the fires of hell for eternity," Gwaine kicks Merlin in the stomach, effectively making him double over with a laugh. "We looked for you. For years. We thought you were dead. You were our friend, and you waged a war against us. I pity you, you deceptive swine," Gwaine loses his steam, kicking Merlin again but halfheartedly. 

"Are you quite done?" Merlin asks patiently, leaning back on his heels and smiling up. "Your flattery is sweet, Gwaine, as it always is, but you have one thing wrong," Merlin blinks out of existence, appearing outside of the cell and slamming the door, locking Gwaine in. "I was never your friend, you stupid whore," Merlin disappears again, only his voice remaining as it resonates through the air, "You mistake my friendly nature for something more. Stupid fucking pillocks. I hated you all. You killed everyone I loved and asked me to serve you like a slave and you think I thought of you as my _friends_? I use to pray for your deaths. I use to sharpen my dagger and dream of killing you lot. You are nothing more than insignificant dust on my cloak. You are nothing. Do you hear me?" Merlin's voice gets impossibly loud, a screech that pierces Arthur to the core, "I could squash you and watch you tremble for your life if I wasn't so lazy." 

And then Gwaine is out of the cell, tears streaming down his cheeks as he grips at his chest. The words seem to hang in the air, a truth that doesn't want to be accepted. No one wants to think that Merlin ever hated them, that they were the reason his eyes turned dark that night so many years ago. Kay is sedated, but there is a new force that all of them are fighting down: despair. Because they know now that Merlin, their Merlin, is dead, and only this creature remains. 

Merlin is in the cell again, floating in the air as he lounges back. "Good thing I don't hold grudges, right?" Merlin laughs, his legs swinging merrily. Arthur watches, waits for the creature to transform into its true form, whatever it may be, but all he sees is Merlin. His Merlin. His love, his light, his everything. He knows that this _thing_ is not him, even if it is his body, but his cock and his eyes can't distinguish the difference when Merlin licks his lips, staring at Arthur. "Hello, my prince," he seems to whisper to only Arthur. Like a secret, like so many secrets that Merlin has, and Arthur still wants to know them all. 

"King," Arthur chokes out. The rest of the men are shuffling their things into another room, wanting to be as far away from Merlin as possible. Arthur doesn't know the feeling. "I'm the king now, Merlin." 

"No, you will always be my prince. Until the day you die and join me in hell, you will be my prince. And then you will be my king in the Underworld, and we will be together. We can be together, Arthur. You just have to die," is Merlin's reply, and Arthur feels his own hands grasping at his knife. He feels the blade biting into his skin, and he wants to. He wants to murder himself for Merlin. He wants to spill his blood for Merlin to see. He wants to say _Here, Merlin, for you, just for you, anything for you_. 

Lancelot tears the knife away from Arthur, hauling him into the next room before he can do it. He feels like he's been awakened, and he blinks, shuddering as the enchantment Merlin had put on him disappears. "Be careful, Arthur," Lancelot mumbles as Arthur shivers, handing him a bedroll and inspecting him for any wounds, "I know you loved him. Gods know I did. I would have done anything for him. But that's not him, not anymore. Don't let it fool you." 

Arthur doesn't sleep. 

* * *

Merlin calls for him that night, and he finds himself in the cell. He lets Merlin fuck him into oblivion, lets the body he's dreamed about for so long lay out on top of him, grunting in pleasure. He takes it all, even the pain, especially the pain, because for a second, Merlin looks like he did five years ago. Young, happy, foolishly in love, and they come together, rocking and whispering each others names. And it is almost the same. 

* * *

Camelot is only a day's journey away when they make camp the next night. They take shelter under a few trees and tie Merlin up to a trunk. Gwaine won't make eye contact with anyone and Kay looks ashamed and pale, uncertain. Merlin is joyous. 

"Do you want to know the trick?" Merlin asks as everyone eats. No one replies, as if ignoring him will stop whatever is coming their way. Merlin is bored, they can tell, and that is more dangerous than anything else. "Why yes, Merlin, we want to know the trick!" Merlin answers for himself, his voice going an octave higher. 

"Please, Merlin, just be silent," Lancelot begs, putting his soup down and looking at him. Merlin laughs. 

"Oh, you're so adorable," he teases, his voice sweet. "Well, anyways, it's simple really. Have you ever seen a siren? Beautiful creatures, really. I created them. They taught me some neat stuff, watch. Lancelot, look at me." 

There is a pause and Lancelot looks over, his eyes guarded. He gasps, his face changing, and he clears his throat. 

"Do you see it now, Lancelot? Do you want it now?" Merlin's voice is sultry, the questions not really questions at all. 

"Yes, yes, _yes_ ," Lancelot chokes out, his breathing becoming shaky. He doesn't stand, but he grips the log beneath him with white knuckles. 

"Come on, touch me, Lancelot," Merlin writhes beneath his chains, his hips canting forward wickedly. 

"Stop that!" Elyan tries to pull Lancelot down when he stands, only to have Merlin's gaze shift onto him. It takes the same effect, pulling Elyan forward. 

"Simple enough, I like to think," Merlin murmurs, turning those cold blue eyes on each of Arthur's knights. "Just show them their truest and deepest desires. Make them see anything they want to see." His eyes turn on Arthur, but all he sees is Merlin. Merlin as he's always been. Merlin, his heart's desire. 

"Merlin, please," Arthur whispers, and it doesn't even sound like his own voice. It sounds desperate, but maybe that's what Arthur is. Desperate. 

"As you wish, my prince," and Merlin shuts his eyes, ending the spell. The knights collapse, their eyes still glazed. Percival gasps, stumbling back, before falling with a thud. Arthur wonders what he saw in Merlin's eyes to make him act that way, but he finds it's better not to ask. 

"Why us?" Leon spits out as he heaves on the ground. Merlin hums in reply, arching his eyebrows boyishly. "You destroyed nearly all the kingdoms this side of the mountains. Why spare us?" 

Merlin grins. "Isn't it obvious, Leon? I fancy you," like it's the undeniable answer. Like it makes sense, even though it doesn't. "I think you look so cute in your armor with your sword and your shaggy hair and your gorgeous arse. All covered in blood and dirt. Ugh, gets me so hard." 

"Stop," Arthur mumbles, and Merlin does. 

Merlin is insatiable. He rambles and banters. He doesn't sleep and he doesn't eat, but he goes quiet and stares forward in between sentences, dropping off and sometimes not finishing words. It's eery. 

But he is beautiful. He is Merlin and he is beautiful, and Arthur can't stop looking. Five years, and he can't stop looking. He knows the others can see, and he knows it's wrong. But he doesn't care. With Merlin, he doesn't care. 

"Do you love him?" Leon asks into the night as they arrange their bedrolls. 

"Do you?" and Arthur wonders why there is no answer. 

* * *

They talk as they make love. The night is quiet, and Arthur moans, disturbing the peace. 

"Why me?" he asks, panting with pleasure. It's a vague question that needs to be answered. 

"Why not?" Merlin smiles above him, thrusting in and out, faster, harder, more more _more_. 

"Do you love me?" 

"I cannot lie." It is not an answer. 

* * *

Merlin cannot lie. 

The feast is wonderful, as only Camelot feasts are. People are jubilant. Everyone eats and sings and dances. 

Merlin cannot lie. 

He stays in Arthur's chambers. He whispers the truth into the walls of the castle and Arthur can feel it. The world is moving beneath his feet. He's hard the entire night just thinking of Merlin in his room. 

Merlin cannot lie. 

When he says he will kill Leon, he is not lying. When he says that Leon's soul is worth more than a thousand golden crowns, he is not lying either. Merlin cannot lie, but it is no consolation for the disgusting truth that pours out of his mouth. He has no filter. He's in Arthur's head, hissing words of honesty into his skull. Filling him, filling him, as he did the night before. 

He stumbles his way into his room. He has had too much ale and Merlin is beautiful and cannot lie. They fuck on the floor and Merlin doesn't even take his breeches off. 

* * *

Leon is dead four days later. Arthur is quiet when he asks why that night in bed. Merlin says he needed someone to take his place as king of hell. 

Gwaine demands Merlin's head on a plate. Merlin laughs. 

You cannot kill Death himself. 

* * *

It is the end, and Merlin digs the blade of Excalibur into Arthur's neck. 

Everyone Arthur cares about is dead. It is only just. The balance is equal now. At least Merlin killed Percival in his sleep. 

He tells him he's sorry. He really is. He's sorry for executing Gauis, he's sorry for murdering Freya, he's sorry for Will, he's sorry he married Gwen, he's sorry for loving Merlin so much that he was selfish. He's so, so, so sorry. 

"I did it for you. I did it for Camelot." And Merlin cannot lie. He traded his soul so that Camelot could thrive. So that Arthur could be king. "But I was too powerful. I was too young. They made me king. They made me watch as you killed everyone I loved. They made me hate you." 

Merlin is beautiful. 

"I don't hate you, though. I love you. And that's why I'm doing this. So we can be together," and the sword is pulled back, ready to strike. 

"Make it go away, Merlin. Stop this." 

"As you wish, my prince."

* * *

Arthur wakes up in his bed. The air is warm, like summer, and there is the sound of plates being stacked. 

"Up and at 'em, Sire," the voice is chipper, and when he opens his eyes, Merlin is standing over him. 

"Merlin...?" 

"Well, I thought that blow to your head might do some damage, but I was hoping you'd at least remember who I am," Merlin rolls his eyes and smiles, and it is bright and real and _Merlin_. 

"C'mon, or Uther will have my head. Leon already threatened to gut me for not changing you before I put you in bed." 

It was a dream, Arthur decides. A horrible, terrible, disturbed dream. And that is enough. 

But sometimes it feels like it wasn't. Sometimes, Leon looks at Merlin like they share some secret. Sometimes Gwaine gets so angry he excuses himself. Sometimes Gwen calls Merlin "My Lord". 

They fall in love. He marries Merlin instead of Gwen. He refuses to think about the dream, although it sometimes creeps up on him, reminding him there are worse things out there. Gauis is not accused of treason, and dies of old age. They build a memorial for Will and Freya and all who were lost, and Arthur loves Merlin. 

But sometimes, Merlin stops talking. Just drops the ends of his sentences. Sometimes, he says "As you wish, my prince." Sometimes he laughs and it is a different laugh, hateful and raw. Sometimes, Arthur wonders. 

Arthur knows he could ask. He could ask if any of this is real. He could ask if he really wanted to. 

But Merlin cannot lie. So he does not ask.

**Author's Note:**

> Um, it got kinda hazy at the end. Sorry. I have no idea where I get my angst writing from, but hey. Dark Merlin is sexy as fuck. Plus, I totally have this headcanon where Merlin loves Leon's ass. Yup. 
> 
> (Also, married&evil!mergana is the best mergana)


End file.
